


Code Name: Mockingjay

by hutchabelle



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:32:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10440981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchabelle/pseuds/hutchabelle
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne are the best detectives in Panem. Mayor Snow demands their help finding the Mockingjay, a mysterious benefactor who embezzles funds from the city to benefit the poor. Katniss doesn’t trust politicians—including Peeta Mellark, Snow’s chief financial advisor who has previously been convicted of a white collar crime. When the Mockingjay leaves a calling card in Peeta’s office, Katniss discovers they have a deep connection neither of them can ignore.





	

 

 

 

_Sometimes in life you have a chance to do something very good. Mine came in a flurry of wings. The birds rushed into the sky leaving a scene of chaos behind. Dark wavy hair loosened from a braid, blonde hair with flashing blue eyes, and a desperate desire to help someone who badly needed it. That was my chance. That was the opportunity I was given to make my life matter._

_That was the night I became the Mockingjay._

 

****

 

“Everdeen! Get in here!”

 

Heaving a sigh, I take one final gulp of my lukewarm, bitter, over-brewed coffee and stuff the last bite of jelly-filled donut into my mouth before sauntering my way into the police chief’s office.

 

“Haymitch,” I drawl. My tone and lackadaisical attitude earn a glare from my boss, and it only takes me a second to figure out why.

 

“Detective Everdeen, meet Commander Thread. He’s joining us from Headquarters for a meeting—a very important meeting,” he says pointedly.

 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” I turn to Commander Thread and shake his hand.

 

My partner, Detective Hawthorne, joins us and introduces himself as well. Gale and I went through the Police Academy at the same time, and we’ve been inseparable since. We work so well together now that our colleagues simply move out of the way when we have a case. Our reputation is stellar for arresting criminals, and I’m grateful to have someone so intelligent and physically capable to help me solve crimes.

 

Haymitch motions to the chairs in front of his desk. We sink into them, but Thread holds up his index finger to indicate that we should wait. It doesn’t take long until a tall, imposing, incredibly good-looking ebony skinned man strides into the room and closes the door behind him. He’s introduced as Lieutenant Boggs, and then the meeting begins.

 

“We have a problem,” Commander Thread says in gravelly voice that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

 

Thread glances between Gale and me, and it’s obvious he’s sizing us up in an attempt to see if we’re up for the task. I hate it when people underestimate me. He may be one of the top brass, but he has no idea what my partner and I can do when we have a lead and the right resources. It’s obvious Thread thinks I’m the weak link. Gale is tall and lean with muscles that ripple underneath his olive toned skin. A number of women in the department despise me because of my relationship with him, which I don’t understand. We’re partners and work well together. Who wouldn’t be grateful for that? Boggs, on the other hand, appraises us both with admiration. He’s obviously read the reports Haymitch sends to headquarters that often highlight the number of cases we’ve solved.

 

When he’s done inspecting us, Thread barks, “Snow’s administration has been made aware of a situation that could create a major problem for the city of Panem. It’s become clear that someone has infiltrated the financial resources of the districts and is working strategically to bleed each one dry—starting with District 13.”

 

I clear my throat and interject before Thread can continue, “What do you mean ‘infiltrated the financial resources’? Is someone stealing money from the city?”

 

“Good question…Detective Everdeen, is it?” Thread answers. When I nod quickly in agreement, he clarifies. “What I mean is that over the past few years, circumstances have revealed that someone is embezzling money from the city. Hundreds of thousands of dollars have disappeared from Panem’s coffers. Each time money is taken, a significant donation to a local charity occurs within a few weeks that exactly mirrors the amount of money lost. Someone’s stealing from the city and giving it to the poor in an obvious attempt to call to attention to the budget cuts Mayor Snow was forced to make when he took office.”

 

I nod in understanding. Snow’s campaign against the incumbent mayor, Cronus Rhea, a few years prior had been ruthless and exposed significant corruption in Panem’s finances. Snow argued that Rhea’s administration unfairly taxed the residents of the city’s districts and required too much of them while providing substandard services, such as fire and police protection, as well as an inferior educational system and terrible roads.

 

Snow’s slick campaign glossed over his own lack of a plan to reform the city, and he’d won handily. It was only after he’d assumed his role as the leader of Panem that it became clear he was more interested in creating a city ruled by tax breaks for the rich and decreased social services for the working class and poor. After three years of Snow’s administration, business is booming in the city, but the majority of the population is far from happy.

 

News of the first Robin Hood strike hit about a year after Snow became mayor, almost two years prior. Snow’s financial advisor, a late twenty-something man named Peeta Mellark, discovered the financial discrepancy and made the connection to the image of a unique bird symbol no one had ever really seen before that particular instance of money laundering. It was only two days after the crime that Caesar Flickerman, Panem’s top investigative journalist, had broken the story that Snow’s financial wonder boy had served two years in a white collar detention unit for insider trading during his years as a business student at the city’s university. Half of Panem’s population assumed Mr. Mellark was the cause of the money’s disappearance while the other were equally positive he’d changed his tune and ran a tight and ethical ship.

 

I’m far from convinced either way, even this long after the first instance. I remember the day I watched Snow’s press conference and saw Peeta Mellark address the city for the first time. His stylish blond hair waved back from his forehead in loose curls, and his deep blue eyes pierced through the television in such a way that I worried for a minute he could see straight into my soul. His lazy smile and ease with words had charmed the entire female population of the precinct and half the men before he’d nodded to Plutarch Heavensbee, Snow’s press secretary, and disappeared from the screen.

 

It’s hard for me to trust anybody who looks that good, talks that smoothly, and charms that many people. In my experience, those are the ones who trick others into believing they’re innocent when they’re actually directing the chaos beneath the surface.

 

Thread’s hoarse rasp brings me back to the present. “We’ve code named this case Mockingjay after the symbol that’s accompanied each of the donations to the charities. Snow’s administration is in serious jeopardy if we don’t stop the bleeding of city funds to local benevolent societies. We’re going to run out of cash to pay city employees—including the police and detective forces—by the end of the year. If that happens, the city government could collapse, and that would be… Well, that would be beyond disastrous for the millions of people who live here.”

 

“Sir, I hate to ask this, but—” I choke on my words at the glare Haymitch throws my way. I breathe deeply and square my shoulders before finishing my question, “but what is it exactly you want us to do, and what resources do we have to accomplish that goal?”

 

Boggs interrupts then and explains, “The ultimate goal is to discover who is stealing money from Panem and filtering it to the charities. Lord knows the people need relief, but bankrupting the city isn’t the way to do it. Until we can discover that, however, we need to show that we’re on top of the situation, that we are deliberately and methodically attempting to catch the perpetrator. We in law enforcement know that a situation like this can’t be solved without hard work and intentionality. The public watches too much TV and believes we should have already solved the case. Snow’s administration has taken a lot of criticism since this information came to light. There’s an election coming up soon enough. We need to stop the blowback.”

 

“So our primary goal is to stop someone who’s helping people who need it while making an incredibly unpopular mayor look better to the rich?” Gale’s cynicism comes through clearly in his question, and Thread narrows his eyes.

 

“You will not say such things against the mayor of the city, Detective Hawthorne. He is your boss, as am I, and you will conduct yourself accordingly.”

 

“He’s a corrupt politician who functions much like a mob boss instead of the leader of a major city,” Gale sneered. “There are plenty of people who cheer for this Mockingjay character. It’s going to be difficult to get any leads if the only people we can talk to are those Snow doesn’t hurt.”

 

“Haymitch, you need to control your people,” Thread snaps. “Hawthorne can be written up for insubordination if he keeps going.”

 

Captain Abernathy smirks and sets down his mug, which I know is always filled with a concoction of coffee spiked with whiskey. “Sir, I don’t reprimand my finest. Hawthorne and Everdeen are the best there are. Controlling them would be akin to shooting myself in the foot. It’d hurt and do no one any good.”

 

Boggs chuckles and cuts himself off with a cough when Thread glares at him. It’s clear to all of us in the room that the Commander isn’t used to being challenged. It’s even more clear that he’s infinitely loyal to Snow.

 

“I should report you, Abernathy,” Thread threatens, but Haymitch is having none of it.

 

“Be my guest, Commander Thread, but when you do that, you’ll have to explain to your boss why you went against his wishes to bring my two best detectives on board to cover a city-wide investigation. Snow won’t take too kindly to you going against him, now will he?”

 

“Wait just a second,” Gale interrupts. “Are you saying Mayor Snow specifically asked for Katniss and me to check into the Mockingjay situation—that we’re being given jurisdiction over anything having to do with this case and not just in District 12?”

 

“That’s exactly what it means,” Boggs affirms. “The mayor wants the very best on this investigation, and every report and word of mouth referral suggested you two were the best of the best at what you do.”

 

For once, Gale’s too stunned to speak. I’m not any better with my gaping mouth and wide eyes. I compose myself when I realize Thread’s narrowed eyes are on me.

 

“Get on it, then, detectives. If something isn’t done within the next few weeks, I’m recommending a mandatory curfew after dark. How many people will be praising the Mockingjay if they’re sentenced to house arrest for cheering for the underdog?”

 

The threat in Thread’s tone is evident as he glares at Gale and then shifts his attention to me. It’s obvious he doesn’t care for either of us, but then again, I’d guess he doesn’t like most people. His dislike is nothing to me other than a challenge to solve the case to his satisfaction. I know how to win, but it’s just as important to protect people who need it. I don’t blink under his scrutiny, and eventually he huffs in disgusts and stalks from the office.

 

Boggs hangs back and surveys all three of us. “I know you can do it. District 12 is the best there is for solving crimes. I believe in you. Let me know what I can do to help.” He extends his hand to Haymitch first and then to Gale, who shakes it reluctantly.

 

“Thank you, sir,” I say when he turns his attention to me, but he shrugs.

 

“No need to thank me for speaking the truth. You deserve the praise, and I’ve got your back if Thread comes after you. Believe that.”

 

When he leaves the office, Haymitch glances between Gale and me and raises his mug in a mock toast. “The best of the best,” he snorts. “That’s us. Now, get out there and solve the case, you two. We wouldn’t want those needy people to get too comfortable having things like food and shelter and clothing.”

 

Gale bristles next to me, and I work hard to repress my frustration. Haymitch may be a drunk, but he’s right. The people of Panem, particularly in District 12, need help, and the Mockingjay’s been the only one to pretend to care since Snow took office.

 

“Lunch?” I ask Gale as we leave the office to head to our desks, and he nods.

 

“I always think better on an empty stomach,” he quips. “Must have been all that hunger as a kid. Hard not to want to sabotage the investigation if it means Snow can’t keep starving people and closing shelters.”

 

“Gale, don’t say that out loud,” I scold as we weave through the hodgepodge of desks and make our way to the elevator.

 

“Why not? It’s the truth, and I swore to protect and serve, not to lie.”

 

I shush him and shove him into the elevator. I slam my thumb against the button for the ground floor and round on him. Once the door is closed, I give him hell.

 

“What are you thinking, Hawthorne? You can’t say stuff like that in public and expect it not to get back to the authorities.”

 

“So, I’m just supposed to pretend I don’t care that Snow’s an egomaniacal asshole who’s attempting to screw everyone but the rich white folk?”

 

“You know I agree with you, Gale. You know I do, but we can’t think about that right now when we’ve got a job to do. If we let our emotions get the better of us, we won’t be able to do what we need to do to help the people of this city. We have a job. We promised to do it,” I insist. “We can nail the bastard after we’ve proven ourselves. Be patient.”

 

“I’ve never been good at being patient, Catnip.”

 

I flinch at his inane nickname for me. I shouldn’t have ever admitted that I actually like that damn cat my sister insisted we bring home from the shelter a few years ago. The orange tabby is the epitome of irritating, but he loves Prim. In the end, we’re on the same side. I just wish Gale hadn’t come over for dinner the night Buttercup decided my lap was the best place in the apartment for a nap. Prim had made a passing joke that I must have had catnip in my pockets, and Gale ran with it.

 

“You don’t even know the meaning of the word,” I grunt, but I’m smiling when I say it. Gale may not be the most politically correct person with his blustery exterior and snarky comments, but underneath that gruff facade is a heart of gold. He loves his family more than anything in the world, and he’s fiercely loyal to me.

 

“No, but I’m a hell of a hunter.”

 

I watch the muscles in his jaw tense and make a decision. “What do you say we grab lunch from that diner down the street, and come back here to get started? We can pull up some of the old press conferences and news reports and go from there. I bet Haymitch will let us have the meeting room, and take out is always the best remedy for restlessness.”

 

“Catnip, you read my mind. I love Sae’s greasy food, and you know how much I’d rather shut out everyone else and work a case with you than be stuck at our desks.”

 

I smile at him, but a fleeting prick of discomfort flashes through my chest. Gale and I are partners and friends, but sometimes I wonder if he might want more than I’m willing to give.

 

****

 

“Good Lord, this roast beef is amazing,” I groan as the flavors of Sae’s daily special flood my taste buds. “Can you hand me that report? The one next to your drink.”

 

Gale tosses me the file, and I flip through the pages in an attempt to understand the information, but it’s hopeless. I can’t make heads or tails of the financial reports Snow’s office puts out every quarter in an attempt to be transparent. There are columns of numbers and percentages and credits and debits, and it all blurs together until my eyes start to cross. After another ten minutes of staring at figures, I give up and slap the cover shut. I’m fairly positive the only person who could help me make sense of this is the head of Snow’s financial unit. Unfortunately, that would mean making an appointment with Peeta Mellark, the gorgeous blonde I’ve only seen on TV.

 

Gale grunts beside me, and I glance over at him. He’s brooding, which is pretty normal for him, but something’s clicking as he scours the lists of cuts to city services. After a few more minutes, he sits back in disgust and shakes his head.

 

“I’ll be honest,” he snarls. “I don’t understand how there haven’t been more attempts on that fucker’s life. Snow is an animal. Anyone associated with him has to be completely immoral.”

 

“Unless it’s one of them,” she argues. “Maybe someone is working behind the scenes to undermine Snow? If we hate him, it’s not such a stretch that other people might too.”

 

He studies me, and I flush at his intensity. “Not a bad theory, Catnip.”

 

Flustered, I shuffle through videos our tech expert, Beetee Latier, pulled for us to view on the pull-down screen on the far wall. Something’s eating at me besides Gale’s stare, so I suggest we watch some of the press conferences to get a better understanding of what Snow’s administration has projected to the public since he took office.

 

“Good idea,” he grunts and crosses to the light switch to flip it off. The room is plunged into darkness, and he settles next to me with his arm a millimeter from mine. I lean across the table to start the first video in the queue and use that movement to shift away from him a couple of inches. He exhales loudly but doesn’t close the space between us.

 

A video flashes onto the screen, and I flinch at the bright light. Within a few seconds I’m reeling from the image of Peeta Mellark on the screen. His smile holds just the right touch of shyness, his skin glows, and his blonde curls fall like a halo across his forehead. When he moves to the podium and starts to speak, I stifle a sigh that I know would make Gale lose his mind.

 

As it is, Gale turns to me and scoffs, “I can’t stand that guy.”

 

“Shhh! I can’t hear him.”

 

“It’s imperative that we join together and help make this city stronger than ever. Too many times over the past few years, we watched as the previous administration claimed to work for us. We hoped and sometimes we prayed that our city’s leaders would help us with our everyday struggles—that they would contribute to a healing economy, healthy homes, and the welfare of Panem’s citizens.”

 

Peeta grips the podium, and I study the way his fingers clutch the wood. His fingers are long and tapered, and there are raised veins on the backs of his hands. His electric blue eyes glow so brightly they’re almost neon, and his suit jacket pulls slightly over his muscular shoulders. He’s dazzling.

 

“What a lying piece of shit,” Gale hisses, and I’m jolted from my trance. Clearly, my partner doesn’t share my admiration. His eyes are molten slits as he glares at the screen, and his nostrils flare with barely restrained fury.

 

“I don’t think he’s lying, necessarily. He’s doing his job. He’s a politician.”

 

“It’s the same difference, Katniss,” Gale snorts and reaches across me to hit the stop button on the computer. “I can’t listen to any more of that crap right now.”

 

“You do realize this is our job, don’t you? Quit pouting, and turn on the next press conference.”

 

He heaves a groan that rivals the decibel level of a jet plane and starts the next video in the queue. This one is a weekly presser of Snow’s chief of staff, Seneca Crane, and focuses on the decisions the administration made to cut social services to some of the most vulnerable people in Panem.

 

“Mayor Snow had to make some very hard decisions, and he chose to focus on first protecting those who comprise the backbone of our city. We must strengthen Districts 1 and 2 initially before we extend additional and unnecessary services to those in the outlying districts. That is sound strategical advice from many successful politicians who have created strong and vital metropolises that then allow for the improvement of all citizen’s lives. We ask for your patience and your sacrifice while we implement this plan in the coming years. This is how you can show love for your fellow citizens. Trust us to do our jobs, and we will all benefit. Thank you.”

 

“What an ass,” I mumble, and Gale chuckles beside me.

 

“They all are, but he’s a particularly horrific brand of bastard.”

 

“There’s no way to compare Peeta—Mr. Mellark, I mean—to this guy,” I argue, and then clamp my lips shut. Gale is not going to let that reference slide.

 

“Peeta?” he snaps and rocks back further in his chair so he can survey me better. “Since when are you and Bread Boy on a first name basis?”

 

“Bread Boy?”

 

“Peeta. Pita bread. It’s the same difference, Katniss.”

 

I roll my eyes and release a mirthless laugh. “Stop using that line. Just because you don’t like two things does not make them equal.”

 

He tries not to smile at me, but he knows I have a point. He shakes his head and motions toward the computer. “Start the next one. Let’s get this over with.”

 

We spend the next several hours poring over videos and aren’t even a third of the way through the list when we agree to call it a day. Gale’s mood worsens as members of Snow’s administration justify and excuse blatant attempts to disenfranchise the most vulnerable segments of Panem’s citizenry. It takes over a week to watch all the videos, and Haymitch lets us use the meeting room as we see fit. By the time we’ve viewed everything, I’m worried Gale’s going to have a stroke if he doesn’t work off some of his anger.

 

“Let’s head to the gym,” I suggest. It’s been much too long since we’ve sparred. You game?”

 

His flicker of interest sparks in his eyes, but he immediately refuses. “I told you I wasn’t going to get in the ring again with you after I gave you that black eye.”

 

I wave away his concern. “It healed. Come on. I need to get rid of some of this excess energy.”

 

In the locker room, I change into a pair of soft cotton gray leggings that my sister continually reminds me match the color of my eyes and a forest green tank top. Once I’ve laced up my shoes, I exit to find Gale waiting for me. He helps me tape my wrists, and then holds the ropes apart so I can slip between them. When we’re finally standing face to face and I take a light swipe at him, he finally speaks.

 

“What are you thinking so far, Catnip?”

 

I inhale and let out my breath in a gush. As I jab with my right, I shuffle sideways and huff, “I think there are way too many potential perpetrators. After watching those pressers, I can’t imagine how no one’s assassinated Snow yet. No wonder someone’s deliberately working to undermine him. He’s worse than Satan.”

 

“Agreed,” he snorts and lands a left hook on my shoulder. “We need to organize the evidence and narrow down persons of interest. There are a few who stand out now who we should probably question.”

 

“I’ve got three. What about you?”

 

“Same. Tell me.”

 

Perspiration glistens on my skin, but the name that comes to mind makes me much hotter than our workout. I still don’t understand my raw attraction to him, but I do know we need to meet with Snow’s financial advisor. Peeta might not be the Mockingjay, but I’d bet a month’s salary that he’s got an inkling who it is.

 

“For one, Bread Boy, as you call him.” Gale stops moving and grunts when my jab connects with his stomach. “Shit, Gale. I’m sorry. I thought you were going to move left.”

 

“Call and make an appointment if you want to warn him. I’m leaving.”

 

“Where are you going?” I call after him. “I was just getting warm.”

 

“I have a hot date with a rookie from District 1. Glimmer something or other, and she likes to talk when she’s… Never mind.”

 

“You’re a pig!” I shout, but he grins over his shoulder at me as he enters the men’s locker room.

 

“Yeah, but I have great interrogation skills.”

 

“Gross,” I mumble under my breath and turn to a punching bag. I have a lot of restless energy and I can’t go home to meet my younger sister for dinner until it’s gone. If I do, she’ll see right through me.

 

****

 

“You’re home late,” Prim calls from the kitchen when I finally come through the door of the small, two-bedroom apartment I share with my sibling.

 

“Sorry! Gale and I worked late, and then I hit the gym for a while and then the shooting range. I needed to brush up on my aim.”

 

“If only you could shoot bad guys with arrows,” she teases. “You were always better with your bow than anything else.”

 

“Har har.”

 

Prim gives me a hug, and I pull her braid in affection. She’s wearing scrubs even though she didn’t have to work today; that’s how dedicated she is to her profession and why I worked myself almost to death to put her through school. She’s the only person in the world I know I love, and the singular reason I have the job I do. I’d do anything to protect her—even become a cop.

 

“Still working the Mockingjay case?” she asks and motions for me to sit at the small Formica table in the corner of the dingy kitchen.

 

“You’re not supposed to know that,” I say pointedly and dig into the piece of lasagna she sets before me.

 

“I know, but I do. You might as well tell me everything anyway.”

 

“Not a chance, although remind me tomorrow to check on an appointment. I need to make sure it’s scheduled soon.”

 

“Who with?” she asks with a bright smile on her face that makes me grin.

 

“Peeta Mellark.”

 

“Snow’s financial wizard? The Golden Boy of Panem? Oh, he’s gorgeous.”

 

I snort at her dreamy expression, even though I’m sure my face looked similar every time I saw his face on the screen over the past few days.

 

“Gale calls him Bread Boy.”

 

“Gale doesn’t like competition, even when he’s got a few others in his pocket,” Prim says with such an innocent expression that I can’t help laughing.

 

“Tell me there’s something good on the DVR. I need a break tonight.”

 

“There’s something good on the DVR,” she deadpans.

 

“Smartass.”

 

“Just keeping up with you.”

 

I shovel the last few bites into my mouth before trudging into the living room and flopping onto the worn leather couch. After the strain of the day, a few hours of mindless TV with my favorite person is exactly what I need to relax.

 

****

 

_Wings flutter as I adjust the Mockingjay. It sits crooked on the edge of the desk until I push it back with the tip of my finger. Long, tapered fingers. They’re strong but gentle at the same time, and I wonder how and why people don’t understand one doesn’t have to preclude the other._

_A shadow passes on the wall, and I draw back into the corner until it fades and I’m alone again. I need to leave before someone sees me, but I linger at the desk as if I’m drawn here by a magnet._

_I glance at my watch and realize it’s midnight. Reluctantly, I drag my fingernail across the polished wood and slip from the room._

_News of the strike will hit in the next few hours, and I need to make sure I’m far away before the symbol is found._

****

 

My alarm goes off the same as it does every day, but I’m reluctant to leave my bed this morning. It’s six a.m., and Prim’s already in the shower. I rub my eyes and try to recapture the delicious feeling that slipped from me as I woke. Often when I wake this way, it’s because of a dream featuring a memory with my dad, but blonde curls and peacock blue eyes lurk somewhere in my sleep-muddled brain.

 

“I’m done, Katniss,” Prim calls as she heads down the hall to her bedroom. “Don’t forget to check on your meeting today.”

 

I grunt a response and lose myself in a hot shower. Prim’s left a travel mug of coffee for me, which I’m still sipping when I make it to the precinct building an hour later. Gale nods at me from his desk, and I take in his rumpled shirt and five o’clock shadow.

 

“Late night?” I ask as I drop into my chair.

 

He smirks and leans back in his chair. “I didn’t exactly sleep a lot.”

 

“Spare me every detail, please.”

 

Gale chuckles and clucks in response. “Jealous much? Green always has been your favorite color.”

 

“I’m not jealous,” I insist, “but I am curious about the results of your so-called interrogation skills. Did Glitter have anything worthy to share besides taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

 

“How’d you know she called me God?” he jokes before sobering. “Her name’s Glimmer, by the way, and she’s known your Bread Boy since their college days. She was more than happy to spill her guts when I…well, you know.”

 

I keep my mouth clamped shut as we glare at other across our desks. I’m sure the information could be crucial to our case, but it seems so sleazy that Gale gathered evidence during pillow talk.

 

Finally, I relent. “Fine. Lay it on me.”

 

“That’s exactly what she said before she told me about Mellark.”

 

My phone rings miraculously, and I shut out my partner’s bragging. I answer on the second ring and snap, “Everdeen speaking. District 12.” I take another swig of coffee to get the bad taste out of my mouth.

 

“Good morning, Detective Everdeen. This is Peeta Mellark.”

 

I choke on the hot liquid and snort as I try to breathe. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I hack into the phone, and it’s several moments before I can rasp back a pitiful reply.

 

“M-Mr. Mellark. Thank you for calling back.”

 

“Are you okay, Ms. Everdeen? I mean, Detective. My apologies.”

 

I wave my hand in front of my face in a desperate attempt to gain my composure and ignore the darts of anger coming from my partner’s eyes.

 

“It’s fine, sir. Thank you for asking.”

 

He clears his throat and presses, “I know you called yesterday to set up an interview, but we might need to make that take place immediately.”

 

“Why? What’s happened?”

 

“Delly, my assistant, called me just a few minutes ago to tell me that a Mockingjay symbol was found in my office.”

 

“ _What_?!” I screech and then apologize for shrieking in his ear. A deep rumble of laughter rolls across the phone line, and heat flushes my neck.

 

“No worries. It’s quite a shock, I must say.”

 

“You found it this morning when you arrived at work?” I ask and search desperately for a pen to jot down notes.

 

“Actually, no. I haven’t been into my office yet. I had a meeting with a contractor in District 11 this morning, but when Delly placed a file on my desk, she found the calling card there. Somehow, this vigilante managed to infiltrate my building and most likely gain access to my personal files. We’ve moved past pranks, Detective Everdeen. This is a direct attack on the mayor’s power structure.”

 

“My partner and I can meet you at your office within the hour,” I offer, but he refuses.

 

“No, I’m almost to you,” he says, his tone sharp with impatience. “I’ll come to your precinct, if you don’t mind. Eleven is only a few minutes away. I’ll have Delly messenger the paper over to you after Commander Thread’s men are done examining the scene. I know my office isn’t in your jurisdiction, but you’re the primary detectives working this special investigation.”

 

“Of course. You’re welcome to come here. We’ll see you soon, Mr. Mellark.”

 

Gale fumes in his seat. “He’s coming here?”

 

“Saves us a trip downtown, doesn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, but now our building will be tainted with his smarminess.”

 

“Oh for…” I huff, but I can’t help laughing. Gale is nothing if not consistent in his hatred for the system and the actors who create it. “Come on. Let’s get to the conference room and organize some of the files. We don’t want to reveal what we already know.”

 

“Which is next to nothing,” he growls but follows me anyway.

 

We’re scrambling to stack the last of the folders into piles when the atmosphere in the office charges with electricity. The elevator doors slide open, and Peeta Mellark strides several steps to the first desk where he stops and presumably asks for directions. Rue, one of the newest members on our force, motions to where Gale and I wait. He flashes her a megawatt smile and marches toward us. I move to the door and step forward to meet him.

 

“Mr. Mellark,” I greet him with an outstretched hand, “thank you for coming to talk with us. I’m Detective Everdeen.”

 

Peeta freezes for a fraction of a second, and I quickly observe the flashes of emotion that color his handsome face. It’s only a moment, so I can’t be sure, but I register more than he probably appreciates. At minimum, I see shock, pointed interest, pain, and an aching loneliness that shimmers in his deep blue eyes. His hand engulfs mine, and tendrils of warmth wrap around my fingers and palm before traveling up my arm to create a flush on my neck.

 

“Detective Everdeen, so nice to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you.” At Gale’s disgusted grunt, Peeta glances to my partner and raises his eyebrows. “And you must be Hawthorne, Detective Everdeen’s partner in crime. I’m sorry, in _fighting_ crime.”

 

“Mr. Mellark, Snow’s white collar crime financial advisor,” he responds, his voice sharp with derision. “What a pleasure to be in your presence.”

 

Peeta chuckles and waves away the beginning of my apology for Gale’s behavior. He turns on his charm and suggests we sit and get started. Gale makes a point of pulling his chair closer to mine and glowering across the table at our visitor. His message is clear. _She and I are a team. You’re the outsider here._ From our demeanor, though, it’s obvious Peeta and I go into this as one with a clear attempt to share intel and focus on the problem at hand.

 

“Why don’t you tell us what you know, Mr. Mellark.”

 

He inclines his head toward me and steeples his fingers. His brow furrows over his captivating eyes, and then he leans forward to speak. I feel like I’m about to fall out of the chair in anticipation.

 

“I have no idea how the Mockingjay came to be in my office. I had a late meeting last night with the head of the mayor’s social committee. Portia and I were running the numbers for the Victory Gala Snow is planning to throw since it’s halfway through his first term. He wants to raise a significant amount of money for his re-election campaign, but the costs are…prohibitive, especially considering the drain on finances the Mockingjay has effected.”

 

“Nothing like wasting the city’s resources on a good party when there are starving people in the streets,” Gale mutters.

 

“Politicians are often expected to host social functions. Nothing about this gala is out of the realm of normal responsibilities,” Peeta insists. “Anyway, Portia and I were in my office until approximately nine in the evening. She left to go home, and I spent another twenty minutes or so submitting forms and filing papers. I locked the door and left. The janitorial staff does not have access to my office unless Delly or I are in there with them.”

 

“Does anyone?”

 

“No. Only Delly and myself,” he confirms with a shake of his head, “and she’s as loyal as anyone I’ve ever known. We’ve been friends since elementary school, and she’s as open and honest as anyone in politics can be. If there’s anything I can say with certainty, it’s not her.”

 

“So, you left a locked office that no one else has a key to and went home for the evening.”

 

“I, uh…sure.” He flushes slightly, so I decide to push a bit.

 

“Did you go home, sir? Is there something you should share?”

 

Flustered, he hems and haws until he finally admits, “I had a date. I didn’t exactly make it home at all last night.”

 

“I see.” My throat closes when I try to swallow, and I work to quell the roiling in my stomach. Gale sneers at Peeta’s admission and purses his lips. Peeta’s face is beet red, and he works hard to avoid my eyes. There seems to be something very interesting on the wall right over my left shoulder.

 

“I was on my way to my meeting in District 11 when Delly called me and told me there’d been another…situation,” he explains. “Attack seems a bit too harsh. No one was hurt, except maybe Snow and his pride. Since it was a charity that supports foster children and their families that received the funds, I’d argue the money was put to better use than it would be if used for the Victory Gala.”

 

“That’s an interesting opinion, Mellark. If I didn’t know how innocent and reformed you are from your white collar college days, I’d wonder if you were involved,” Gale interjects. His accusatory tone makes his allegation that much more audacious.

 

Peeta shifts his gaze to my partner and wipes his face clear of emotion. When he speaks, his voice is without inflection. “I could say the same for you, Detective Hawthorne. Your public bio makes it pretty obvious you’ve got a soft spot for kids, especially those being raised by single moms just barely scraping by.”

 

“Is there anything wrong with that?” Gale challenges, anger simmering just below the surface. “You might as well be accusing Katniss here too, if there is. We have extremely similar family situations. We might as well have been cousins.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong with it. Feel free to wave a white flag between us. We’re on the same side here,” Peeta says quietly with his palms in the air.

 

“Well, that’s just bullshit,” Gale spits and then jumps at the knock on the door. Haymitch pokes his head in and motions for him with his finger.

 

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Mellark. Thanks for keeping us in the loop.”

 

“My pleasure, Captain Abernathy. Your detectives are the best in Panem. No reason to go anywhere else,” Peeta replies, his voice as warm now as it was full of ice when he rebuked my partner.

 

“I’m going to borrow Detective Hawthorne for a moment. Sweetheart here can finish taking your statement. She’s a lot easier to look at anyway,” Haymitch teases with a wink and steps back to let Gale pass.

 

When the door shuts behind them, the room is silent except for the blood rushing in my ears. I fix my attention on Peeta and wait for him to speak. I can’t form words or figure out what to do with my hands, and my stomach dips a little when our eyes lock. I can hear the ticking of the wall clock as we study each other. Finally, he sighs and leans toward me.

 

“I know this looks bad, Detective Everdeen. I’m not stupid.”

 

“Katniss,” I whisper in a garbled hiss. When he doesn’t respond, I clarify, “My name is Katniss. There’s no need to be so formal. After all, you’re the one who said we’re on the same side.”

 

The corners of his mouth quirk upward, and he agrees, “All right, Katniss. Please feel free to call me Peeta then.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“As I was saying, I know this situation isn’t good. I spent time in jail for embezzling funds, and now I’m the chief financial advisor to the mayor of Panem. Money is disappearing under my watch. There’s no reason for you or Hawthorne or anyone else in this city to believe I’m innocent, but I swear I’m not the Mockingjay or know who it is.”

 

“I can understand your concern.”

 

“Can you?” he wonders. His blue eyes narrow and his eyebrows pinch in frustration. “Can you really understand how tied my hands are by working for a horrible man who I and everyone else knows is as crooked as they come? How much I wish I did know who the Mockingjay was because I believe in what that person is doing? I know it’s unethical to feel that way. Hell, I know it’s illegal too, but I’m horrified by the state of social services in this city. All the money that’s disappearing should be filtered to where it has been through the Mockingjay.”

 

“Sometimes it’s a hard thing to do what’s right and what’s expected of us at the same time,” I murmur, completely entranced by his compassion and conviction.

 

“And sometimes a person can make it look really easy.”

 

Silence falls again. I feel like I’m pinned to the wall by the look he flashes me, and I’m much warmer than I should be in my elbow length dress shirt and light black pants. I toy with the end of my braid with restless fingers and doodle something nonsensical on my notepad just to have something to do. Peeta’s phone vibrates on the table, and he picks it up with an apology and answers it.

 

“Mellark,” he snips and then relaxes as he listens. “Thank you, Delly. I’m so sorry you had to endure that. Yes, you should take an early lunch. I’ll be back in the office around one. Make sure to be back. See you then.”

 

“It’s barely ten in the morning. You have more meetings, I assume?”

 

He nods carefully and tucks his phone into his breast pocket. “I do. There’s a Ms. Mason in District 7 who asked for a lunch meeting. I’m heading there as soon was we’re done here. No rush, though. I have a bit before I need to be there.”

 

“Unless you have something else you haven’t mentioned already, we’re done here. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your lunch date.” My tone is colder than it should, and it’s clear he notices.

 

“It’s not a date.”

 

“It’s none of my business, even if it is,” I mumble and gather my papers and pen. When I’m under control, I stand and extend my hand to him. “It was nice to meet you, sir. Thank you for coming all the way down here. We’ll let you know if something turns up after we’ve gotten the paper from your office.”

 

“My name is Peeta,” he insists, but I ignore him.

 

“You can find your way out?”

 

“Of course, Detective Everdeen. I’ll show myself to the elevator.”

 

He’s out the door the next second and stalking to the end of the hall. His pace is agitated, and I feel a twinge of shame for acting like a spurned lover for absolutely no reason. As I cross to the door, I notice a trace of his scent—a heavenly combination of spices that is purely masculine. I don’t have time to consider what it means when my knees go a little weak because Gale is waiting impatiently at his desk. He holds up a manila envelope and waves me over to him.

 

By the time I’m by our desks, I’m composed again. This job doesn’t have time for personal agendas. I can analyze my reaction to Peeta Mellark tonight when I’m home.

 

****

 

Peeta’s tongue flickers like a bird’s wings. Blue eyes melt my silver ones until they’re pools of molten lava. His blonde hair curls in my fingers as he disappears into the dark patch of hair. I dissolve into the mattress as he devours me. His arms hold me down and open, and I buck upward restlessly in search of something I’m positive only he can give me.

 

His tongue traces a Mockingjay in my most sensitive spot. I count to ten and then twelve and then thirteen—the number of districts. The number of times he makes me pulsate and come. The number of times I want to beg him to stay and for him to tell me he wants me as much as I want him.

 

He moves over me, heat radiating off his skin that burns my flesh. We’re both on fire. My nipples pucker and scrape along his muscled torso. His weight settles between my legs, and I raise my hips to meet his. His name echoes off the walls, and he sings me a lullaby as he fills me and retreats. Dandelions fall from the ceiling as we climb higher. Rose petals bleed down the walls. Thorns surround us, tangled and wild and determined to tear us apart.

 

“Katniss,” he pleads. “Katniss, come with me. Don’t look back. Let go, and come.”

 

His mouth covers mine. His tongue caresses me intimately, and I splinter into spirals of mist. It’s as fine as the coal dust that covered my hometown and the flour that dusted my mother’s hands when she baked for us—before the world ended.

 

I cling to him, but he’s already slipping away from me.

 

“Don’t go. Let me come with you,” I beg, but he fades until he’s nothing more than shimmering energy. Then that disappears too.

 

****

I wake screaming and drenched with sweat to Prim’s gentle touch on my shoulders. She shakes me, her hands tender but firm as she pulls me toward reality.

 

“Don’t go,” I whimper, and she crawls into bed next to me and pulls me close to her. She strokes my hair and hums to me just like my mother used to do before our father died. It’s been years since my sister’s been subjected to anything this bad. Usually I’m calm within minutes, but today feels like it did was I was still young and lost everything I’d ever thought was important.

 

I don’t realize I’m singing until I hear the familiar phrase slip from between my lips. Prim encourages me to continue, so I repeat the refrain until my voice is strong and sure.

 

_Deep in the meadow_

_Under the willow_

_A bed of grass_

_A soft green pillow_

“You’re okay,” she murmurs. “You’re safe.”

 

“I’m sorry, Prim.” I wipe the tears from my cheeks onto my pillowcase, the same color as the pine trees that used to frame our childhood home. “I don’t know what happened. I haven’t done that in years.”

 

“Was it Dad again?” Her blue eyes search mine, and I flush.

 

“No. It wasn’t him this time. I guess maybe that’s progress at least, right?” With a wry smile, I untangle myself from the bedsheets and head to the shower. I’m sticky, and my skin feels as if it’s covered in grime.

 

The warm water sluices down my body, and I close my eyes under the spray. The image of Peeta’s mouth on me swims behind my eyelids, and I swear I can still feel the pressure of him inside me. What scares me isn’t necessarily that I had the dream but that I liked it as much as I did. If he hadn’t slipped away, I would have woken in a haze of peaceful happiness.

 

It’s been over a week since Peeta visited Gale and me in District 12, and our investigation has stalled. There’s almost no evidence trail that indicates how anyone is stealing from the city, let alone how tens of thousands of dollars disappear every few weeks. The paper with the Mockingjay symbol from Peeta’s office had no usable fingerprints and no distinguishing characteristics other than the symbol itself. The security cameras in the building show empty corridors and a locked door to the financial chief’s suite, so it’s clear either someone was hiding inside the office or rigged the surveillance tapes. Either way, we have nothing to go on when attempting to track down the criminal.

 

Worse than the lack of leads is the hollow feeling in my gut every time Peeta comes to mind, which is almost constant. I’m still embarrassed when I remember how I ended our conversation and he left the precinct in a huff. I was less than professional, which irks me, but the realization that I was jealous of a woman I don’t know over a man I’ve met once is even worse.

 

“What is wrong with me?” I whisper to the shower wall.

 

“Katniss, I’m leaving,” Prim calls from the front door. “Have a good day, and don’t dawdle too much. It’s already almost seven. You’ll be late for work.”

 

“Bye, Prim,” I shout back to her. “I love you.”

 

The door closes, and I’m not sure if she’s heard me or not. I hope so since it seems I’m always leaving her alone while I go to work. No matter how busy she is, she always tells me how much more time she wishes we could spend together. I promise myself to take some vacation days soon and make her a priority.

 

By the time I arrive at the office, I’ve consumed three cups of coffee and the biggest savory snack I can buy—a bun stuffed with asiago and mozzarella cheese from a small bakery on the opposite corner of my apartment building. I’m just stuffing the last bite into my mouth and settling into my chair when Gale leaves Haymitch’s office and sits down across from me at his desk.

 

“You look awful.”

 

I grimace and swallow before answering. “Thanks a lot. That’s exactly what I want to hear this morning—a commentary on my looks from my partner in a job that values brains and physical fitness over all else.”

 

“Funny,” he retorts, “and here I thought compassion was the main requirement for a police officer. That’s what you told me at the Academy.”

 

“I was a lot less cynical then. My partner must have rubbed off on me.”

 

My desk phone rings before he can answer, and I grab it like it’s a life preserver and I’m about to drown. I don’t want to fight with Gale today. We’re still trying to recover from our squabble the day Peeta gave his statement. He keeps taking verbal swipes at me that used to be funny but now feel a little too much like frank disapproval.

 

“District 12; Everdeen speaking,” I snap into the receiver.

 

“Detective Everdeen. It’s Peeta Mellark.”

 

“Pe—Mr. Mellark. How nice to hear from you. What can I do for you today?”

 

“I’m sure you’re terribly busy. I don’t want to take you away from anything important, but I was wondering if you might—you and your partner, if you’d prefer—pay me a visit at my office. I’ve found something I think you might be interested to see, and my schedule doesn’t allow me to leave today.”

 

His voice is smooth, measured and suave in a way that makes me think of his silver tongue and what it was doing to me in last night’s dream. I clench my thighs as the words roll across the phone line and press my eyes closed in tortured desire.

 

“Let me check my schedule. Can you hold, please?”

 

“Certainly,” he agrees, and I hit the lighted button.

 

Gale’s glaring at me again, and that and Peeta’s overly polite demeanor are almost enough to break me. The thought of facing Peeta is overwhelming, but doing so with Gale sounds about a million times worse. I make a split decision and decide not to invite him to come with me. It’s only a meeting; I can share information later.

 

“You okay, Catnip?” Gale asks with an attempt at genuine concern.

 

“I’m fine. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Let me know if anything happens, okay?” He nods, and I return to my phone call.

 

“That was an awfully brief hold,” Peeta chuckles.

 

“I just checked my schedule. Nothing I can’t postpone until this afternoon. I’ll be there in a half hour.”

 

“Wonderful. I’ll see you soon.”

 

I wave to Haymitch as I leave and hurry to the elevator. A flutter of nerves bubbles in my stomach, but it’s nothing compared to the excitement buzzing in the back of my mind. I’m eager to see him. I can’t decide if it’s in spite of or because of my dream.

 

****

 

“Thanks for coming down here, Detective Everdeen. I know how valuable your work is to the city. I’d hate to monopolize your time,” Peeta says warmly with just a hint of a smile on his full pink lips. There’s a tiny suggestion of shyness that makes his earlier brusque tone perplexing.

 

“Katniss,” I say in a voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes appraise me and fill with confusion.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“My name is Katniss, Mr. Mellark,” I explain. “Please feel free to call me that. I’ve already told you that, if you’ll remember from the last time…from a few weeks ago.”

 

“Yes, I remember.”

 

“I was out of sorts that day and not very nice, I’m afraid. I’m sorry I was curt.”

 

“It’s okay, Detective.”

 

“Katniss,” I remind him pointedly.

 

“My apologies, Katniss. That’s lovely, by the way. Just as beautiful as the person who bears the name.” At my blush, he softens his tone further and insists, “And call me Peeta. I’ve never really felt comfortable being called Mr. Mellark. Reminds me too much of my father…or my brothers.”

 

I work hard to keep my brow smooth and not broadcast my desire to ask him about his family. His comment doesn’t seem flippant or insignificant. A world of mysteries swirls in his azure depths, and I’m fairly sure the tight feeling in my gut means that I want to fall into them and explore every one.

 

To distract myself, I clear my head and nod. “Peeta.” His name tastes sweet on my tongue.

 

“Right. So, you must be wondering why you’re here. Why I called you here, that is.”

 

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes.” I keep my voice flat, without emotion. I have no desire to reveal to him how attractive I find him or how much the timbre in his voice causes ripples to roll through me from my waist to the tips of my toes. Or how much I can’t stop thinking about waking up from a vision of him between my legs just a few hours ago.

 

“Yes, I’m sure it did,” he replies, his words clipped and professional. “I’ve been looking through the books for the city, and I noticed a discrepancy that I thought might be of use in your investigation. With the recent Mockingjay attack on my office, I thought they might be connected.”

 

“You’ve only just discovered this, you say?”

 

“Yes. The mayor asked me to review the accounts when the Mockingjay decided to steal from the city again. He cut funding to that women’s shelter. He’s not happy to have his decisions undermined by a—”

 

I raise an eyebrow at him. “By a what?”

 

He studies me carefully for several seconds. His eyes flicker from my lips down to my torso and then back to my steely gaze before he finally answers, “By someone who shows compassion to others.”

 

He doesn’t blink when he says it, and I’m struck by his bravery. He’s calculated and charming—both weapons he’s already used to appeal to the city. I’m not far behind the rest of the population.

 

“Why are you still working for him?”

 

He leans forward, and for a moment I’m not sure whether or not he heard me. Then he flashes me a sweet smile and asks, “Why are you?”

 

“I don’t work for him,” I protest, but he clucks at me in disapproval.

 

“You’re one of the most talented detectives on Panem’s police force. You’re definitely the best in District 12, except maybe for that hulking Hawthorne who clearly hates my guts.”

 

“He doesn’t hate— Well, he probably does,” I admit sheepishly. Gale isn’t that hard to read. Peeta’s people skills surely clued him in to my partner’s dislike of him if Gale’s comments didn’t.

 

“The point is, Katniss, that you do work for Snow. The police force answers to the mayor’s office. You’re technically his employee.”

 

I sniff in dismissal, but he won’t have any of it.

 

“I’m just saying maybe keep your judgment to a minimum. There are a lot of ways to work towards a better world.” His eyes blaze as he holds my gaze. “We’re all doing our part.”

 

I’m melting. I’m on fire as I stare at the golden boy across the mahogany desk. There’s so much heat between us, that I worry the papers in his inbox will combust if one of us doesn’t break the connection. I barely know this man, but I’m drawn to him by something I can’t begin to understand.

 

He rises and moves around the desk to loom over me, and I shrink back. His lips twitch, and he kneels down next to me. He extends his hand and offers a single sheet of paper.

 

“This is a list of the benevolent societies and charities that have been the benefactors of the Mockingjay. If you look closely, I think you’ll see a pattern.”

 

I can’t look away from him, especially from the display of freckles across the apples of his cheeks. His tanned skin has a rosy tint that makes his perfectly shaped pink lips appropriate for his masculine face.

 

“I’ll take a look at it,” I murmur and feel myself sway toward him.

 

The magnetism between us is palpable. His breath escapes him in uneven puffs as his eyes trail down my neck to the V of my blouse. I shift my leg slightly and press it against his hip. He shivers, and the blue of his irises darkens to navy.

 

“I think you’ll like what you see.”

 

His voice rumbles in his chest and spreads through me to puddle between my legs. The tip of his tongue flicks out between his lips, and I swallow hard as he gives me a look that makes me wonder if he can see through my clothes. I can read a story in the way he observes me, and I realize I’m desperate to know the ending.

 

“I already do,” I admit and then turn the tables on him. “I can’t wait to see what’s underneath.”

 

He rises and pulls me to my feet with him. His body presses eagerly against mine, and I feel my internal temperature spike. His hand caresses my hip for a second before he leans closer to me. His mouth is inches from mine when he murmurs, “I can’t wait either.”

 

My eyes flutter closed in anticipation when his warm breath ghosts across my cheek, but the kiss doesn’t come. Instead, he backs away until he’s on the far side of his desk. His hands clench and release, and I gulp at the way his muscles flex in his forearms.

 

“I have another meeting in a few minutes. I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re very busy.”

 

“Yes,” I agree. “I’m very busy.”

 

His throat bobs at the underlying current in my response, but he refuses to take the bait.

 

“I hope to see you again, Katniss. Maybe in a less formal manner.”

 

 _Like naked underneath you_ , I agree silently.

 

“I’m sure that will happen sooner rather than later.”

 

“I’m counting on it.”

 

“Mr. Mellark?”

 

He lurches sideways and hits a button on his phone to respond. “Yes?”

 

“Mayor Snow is here.”

 

“Show him in. We’re just finishing up.” Peeta turns to me, and I can see tension on his face.

 

“I’ll let you know if anything seems out of the ordinary with your list.” I fold the paper carefully and place it in my hip pocket.

 

“I look forward to—”

 

The door bursts open then, and I shake my head to silence him. I don’t want to get him in trouble when he’s the only person in Snow’s administration to be helpful in the investigation.

 

“Well, well, Ms. Everdeen.”

 

“Detective Everdeen, sir.”

 

“ _Detective_ Everdeen, it’s lovely to see you, and with Mr. Mellark. What a cozy arrangement.”

 

“Indeed,” I agree and turn to leave. “Mr. Mellark, I’ll let you know if there are any leads. Thank you for your help.”

 

As the door closes behind me, I glance back to see the two men staring at each other. Peeta bends first with a disarming smile. He’s back to playing Snow’s man in the political game for which he has so much skill.

 

****

 

_I hear the door clang behind me, and I startle as a shadow flashes against the wall. It’s too late to hide. The only option is to stand proudly as eyes flash and tempers flare. The drop is made. The signal is on the wall. The tension builds until an explosion rocks the cell._

_As I’m knocked backward, all I can register is the symbol of the Mockingjay._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally written for MS2SL (More Smut 2 Save Lives), a wonderful event that raises funds to fight children's cancer. Thank you to loving-mellark for the gorgeous banner that inspired this story. I am beyond grateful to my pre-readers/betas (xerxia31, thegirlfromoverthepond, and lvfics) for their unfailing generosity and support. In addition, joshs-left-earlobe and jennagill both provided feedback during the earliest stages of writing. Huge props to sohypothetically and all others, including the donors, who have helped make this event a success. I am beyond humbled and honored to be a part of this collection.


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